


Sing, Play, Tell Me It's Going to be Okay

by collarsandplaid



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: 5+1 Things, David just wants his Max to be happy, David's guitar, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Max likes both, Max's ukulele, Music, NOT MAXVID, Singing, also likes when David plays, does this count as Dadvid?, it's Max after all, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-04 08:12:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12164967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collarsandplaid/pseuds/collarsandplaid
Summary: Five times Max either needed, wanted, or pestered David into playing the guitar for him, and one time Max played his ukulele for David.(Sequel to "Six String Hero" but can be read alone.)





	1. To Soothe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeey~  
> This story has been ready and in the wings for a while, and I was super excited to share it with you, but I just wanted to finish posting "Six String Hero" before posting this. As mentioned in the summary, this story is technically a sequel but I provided allusions so that you needn't have read the one to understand the other. 
> 
> So, this first chapter was actually inspired by Impulsivekiddo's comic about how Max cries himself to sleep. If you want to see the comic, check it out here: http://impulsivekiddo.tumblr.com/post/163755350945/soooo-max-cries-himself-to-sleep-uh-h-elp-the

It was a lot later than usual when David finally started his nightly rounds through the grounds of Camp Campbell. He typically liked to begin as the campers were getting ready for bed. He would make sure they all brushed their teeth and went to their assigned tents with no trouble. Then he patrolled the campsite in case anyone needed something before bed or if any strays needed herding. Only when the kids had settled comfortably for sleep would David tour the rest of the campsite to make sure everything was as it should be and ready for another day of fun and activities.

However, tonight, something (or rather someone) had angered the platypus to the point where it was chasing after the campers and counselors alike, spitting and hissing and kicking its feet. It took a long time to corner the ferocious beast, all the while trying to keep Nikki away from its snapping teeth and to keep it away from the kids. At last, the Quartermaster had lured it into a cage with something from his store that wriggled as if it were alive. He carried the beast away to be released once it had calmed down. The campers took a while to calm down themselves before finally heading to bed.

With the sun long since gone and a brilliantly glowing moon high in the sky, David did he rounds to ensure all his campers were safe and secure in their tents. He assumed it was only because of that lateness of the night that he heard a sound he had never heard during his patrol before.

It was a choked, wet sound.

David paused and tilted his head to listen. Had it been a trick of his hearing, maybe just a nocturnal creature croaking in the night? Ears straining, breath caught in his throat, David waited.

There, he heard it again: a curt, coarse sound, something both harsh and heavy. It was quickly followed by a sniffle. A very human sniff as if someone was crying. No, not just crying, sobbing.

With wide eyes and senses on full alert, David swiveled his head around, looking for the cause of the crying. Was one of his campers hurt? Lost? He needed to find them and quick. The sound alone was making anxiety tight in his chest and his heart ached terribly at the sadness resonating in each muffled cry.

Pinpointing a direction, David made a straight line to the tent closest to him. It was the tent shared by Max, Neil, and Nikki. Oh god, had Nikki been bit after all? Or maybe Neil had messed up the science experiment he had been working on, the effects of it now harming the poor boy. Or was it Max? What could have possibly befallen the perpetually angry boy to make him sound like that? Max never cried; he always did his best to bundle his emotion under a heavy dose of sarcasm and a piercing glare.

Didn’t matter who it was. Someone was crying. Someone was in pain and it was David’s job to help.

Without bothering to announce his presence, David threw open the tent flap and stuck his head inside.

The moonlight flooded the tent and dully illuminated three tiny bodies. Neil was facing David, eyes closed and mouth slack in sleep. Nikki was on the ground, growling quietly at some unseen enemy as her feet kicked. And Max.

Max was a small, trembling ball tucked under his blanket.

“Max, are you-” David started in surprise.

Before he could finish, Max snapped his head up, the blanket tumbling off his form. The rest of David’s question died on his tongue. Max was staring back at David with very wide eyes. The tears smeared on his cheeks and collecting at the corners of his eyes glistened like dew in the moonlight, His pillow which he had likely been using to stifle his cries by holding it to his face, was clutched in his hands.

The boy was clearly just as surprised as David at being caught.

“…Max,” was all that David could say, voice matching the expression on Max’s face.

He took a step into the tent, hand up and reaching for the boy.

Something cracked in Max’s expression and then the eyes turned steely. His mouth twisted into an ugly scowl and he furrowed his brows into a deadly glare. David flinched back and suddenly Max was a blur. The boy jumped out of bed and lunged at the taller man, effectively knocking David back out of the tent and into the dirt. Max landed on his chest and scurried back onto his feet. David was slower to recover but managed to sit up, rubbing at the back of his head.

“Max,” he started – perhaps to admonish, maybe to question, even he didn’t know – when a tiny fist clutched at his bandana and jerked him forward.

“Shut the fuck up!” Max hissed in a wild whisper. The boy glanced back at the tent where he friends still slept. “You shut up and don’t say another fucking word or I choke you out right fucking now.”

To prove his point, Max twisted his fist in the bandana and David felt the cloth tighten against his throat. He didn’t feel particularly threatened. He wasn’t thinking too much about himself, not when Max was a seething storm of rage and anguish in front of him, tears still stuck to his lashes and drying on his cheeks. David barely noticed his own pain when he could see something infinitely more agonizing so clearly tormenting this young boy.

“Max,” David tried again, hand going to Max’s hand, not to loosen his hold or pry him away, but simply to hold. “It’s okay.”

“No. It is not okay. That's just a fucking lie people tell kids when they don't want to deal with them,” Max practically growled, clenched teeth a stark white against the yawning shadows under his eyes. “Now you are going to shut up and walk away. And you are going to mention this to no one. Got it?”

Max again glanced back at his tent, as if waiting for his friends to pop out any moment and see him: see him crying. It didn’t last but a moment before his glare snapped back to David, a dangerous fire swirling in his eyes, contrasting strikingly with the tears refusing to fall.

David let out a soft exhale, allowing himself to visibly relax in front of Max. His hand squeezed the boy’s hand. Fearlessly, gaze set in an expression of calm, David brought his other hand up to cup the boy’s cheek. He gently thumbed away the tears that had cooled there. Max didn’t ease his glare but the fire simmered down. His hand trembled in David’s.

“You’re right,” David amended, voice low and soft, not wanting to agitate the boy further. “It’s not okay.”

All the fight went out of Max in one fell swoop. His glare was gone and he stared at David with eyes that suddenly seemed impossibly young and far too vulnerable. This was not the Max that David knew. This was a boy far more scared and broken than he let on. A boy David always forgot he could to be, what with the usual bravado and cynicism Max constantly displayed. The Max David was looking at now was just a ten year old boy.

“Whatever hurt you, whatever nightmare or thoughts that made you feel this way, it’s not okay. It’s not okay that you feel like you have to hide your tears; it’s not okay that you feel like you can’t go to anyone for help when you’re in pain like this.”

David moved his arms to circle around Max and pull him close. Max’s head bumped against David’s chest but the small boy made no move to return the hug. Surprisingly, he didn’t push away either.

“But you know what, Max?” David asked, voice straining around the lump in his throat. He blinked against the blurriness welling up in his own eyes. This wasn't fair. Sometimes, the world just wasn't fair. “You’re okay. You’re safe right here, right now, and I’m going to make sure nothing else hurts you.” David closed his eyes and dipped his head down to rest his chin against Max’s mass of curly hair. “You’re okay, Max.”

The grip in David’s bandana tensed but didn’t twist. Max’s other hand shakily reached up to grab the front of David’s shirt and then the boy was pressing into David’s chest. Renewed tears stained the green counselor shirt and the muffled sobs reverberated over David’s heart. David tightened his hold around Max, legs sliding up to encircle the boy, as if David could use his body alone to shield Max from whatever was haunting him. He rubbed soothing circles into Max’s back with one hand and patted at the boy’s hair with the other.

“Sshh,” he cooed, humming quietly into Max’s curls. He didn’t really have a song in mind, just a melody that rose and fell with Max’s shuddering breaths.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. The night darkened further and the warm summer breeze started to cool and tousle David’s hair. Max was dressed in his simple yellow camp shirt; his signature blue hoodie still inside. Without it, the boy started to tremble from more than just his quieting tears. David tried to curl his body around Max in a way that would protect him from the wind, but the temperature was definitely dropping around them and David didn’t want Max to get sick.

Max sniffled and rubbed his face against David’s bandana, turning his nose in towards David’s neck as he instinctively sought out warmth. David obliged by bundling him up closer.

“Are you ready to go back to bed,” David murmured, his whisper lost to the wind.

Max shook his head tiredly, still refusing to move, to look up.

“Okay, Max.”

In one fluid movement, David scooped up the tiny body and stood up. His legs were mildly numb and the first few steps were somewhat wobbly, but he made his way towards the counselor cabin. His bedroom light was still on but Gwen’s had long since been extinguished. David was sorry for having to have to wake her. She had had a long day too.

Shifting Max in his arms to free one hand, David opened the door and switched on the light in the communal living room. He blinked hard against the light to adjust his eyes, Max letting out a soft groan and burying his face into David’s shoulder.

David quickly walked into his room, grabbing his guitar with his free hand and sitting down on his bed. He considered lying Max down but the kid wasn’t letting go anytime soon, not with the death-grip he had in David’s shirt. So David negotiated Max onto his lap, one arm supporting the boy’s head and gripping the neck of the guitar, the other draped over both the body of Max and the guitar. Max snuggled closer, secured between the warmth of David and the firm, smooth back of the guitar.

“Is this okay, Max?” David asked kindly, not wanting to disturb what little peace Max had managed to find. He knew the boy liked to listen to him play – ever since he had found out Max actually liked the guitar – but if he wasn’t up for it, David wasn’t going to force it.

He smiled, albeit a bit sadly, as Max nodded silently, eyes still closed and face still buried against David.

David started to play. It was one of his favorite songs: a lullaby someone had sung to him long ago. He couldn’t remember who that person was anymore, but he remembered the words. They were the words he meticulously sang over and over again as he experimented with different chords and sounds. He wanted to make a song that perfectly coupled with the words, and what they meant to him.

The music was soft and slow, deep and lulling. It was something somber, something that acknowledged sadness but offered something better. It was the song David had first performed for Max when the boy had demanded David play.

The tiny fists lodged in David’s shirt began to loosen and relax. The desperation with which Max clung to David calmed and some of the pain etched deep in the boy’s face began to ebb.

“David, what the fuck? Do you know what time it is?” Gwen nearly yelled as she threw open her door and stomped into David’s room.

David paused to look at her, eyes wide in panic that she might upset Max. The boy in his lap quickly hid his face in David's chest. When Gwen saw the tiny body huddled between David and his guitar, her own eyes grew large and she snapped her mouth shut. She hurried into the room on bare feet, footsteps barely making a sound.

“Max?” she asked hesitantly. She lifted her gaze to David. “Shit, what happened? Is he okay?”

“He will be,” David supplied with a small, reassuring smile. “Just needs a little time.”

Gwen nodded anxiously, eyes watching Max as she rubbed at her neck – a habit she blamed David for starting.

“Hang on.” She padded out of the room again but was quick to return with one of the spare blankets. Wordlessly she lowered the blanket over Max, maneuvering around the guitar so as to not disrupt the boy. She tucked it in around him, fingers lingering on Max’s shoulder, before drawing away.

“I’ll get some water going,” she said distractedly, not knowing what else to say or how else to help.

David gave her a gracious smile and repositioned his hands to keep playing as Gwen hurried off. Max stopped shivering.

David played the song through once more time. Then, he started to sing, voice melding harmoniously with the melody.

_“Come away,_  
_Come away, child,_  
_The day you knew is gone._

_Come away,_  
_Come away, child,_  
_You’ve been awake too long._

_Sleep calls,_  
_She promises comfort_  
_And beckons with a song._

_Come along,_  
_Come along, child,_  
_Stay with me until dawn.”_

David opened eyes he hadn’t realized he had closed and looked down at Max. The boy was staring back up at him, aqua eyes red but dry.

“You’ve played me that song before,” Max said bluntly, voice hoarse from crying. “The first song you played for me.”

David stared at the boy with open shock. He had only played the melody once before, and it had been a long while ago. He was surprised Max was able to remember it.

A familiar smirk lifted Max’s lips, some of the light finally reaching his eyes as Max clearly relished in his personal win. David’s heart swelled with joy and gave his own smiled in return.

“Do it again,” Max sighed, leaning back into David and closing his eyes.

David did, adding slight variation to the pitch and speed. The song carried his feeling of happiness that Max remembered his song; that Max felt comfortable enough, safe enough to request it again, to smile as David played.

When David finished, Gwen was back with a hot cup of coffee. Max perked up as the smell of it reached him. When she entered the room, her eyes instantly sought out Max. When she found him looking back at her, she smiled, as if to say, _There you are_.

“Your favorite,” she announced, coming to sit down beside David. She held out the cup to Max. “Black.”

Max finally relinquished his hold on David and reached eagerly for the cup. He wriggled out of David’s lap to sit between the counselors, sipping at his tea contently. Foot bumping against Gwen’s leg, Max rested his head against David’s arm.

“Play something else,” he slurred. Not even caffeine seemed strong enough to keep the boy awake for much longer.

David exchanged a knowing glance with Gwen. They were both curious to know what had upset the boy so: a nightmare? a memory? a thought? But now was not the time to ask. Not when Max had finally calmed, comfortable between them.

As Gwen tucked the blanket back around Max, David started up another song, singing along as Gwen hummed faintly. Max listened, eyes closed. He was warm, he was safe, and he had his two counselors. Yeah the world sucked, and everything was shit, and nothing was okay. But he was. He was okay.

It wasn’t long before Gwen was plucking the half-full, cold cup of coffee out of Max’s hands and David was moving the boy to his pillow, pulling his blanket over Max.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really should have taken that poetry class when I had the chance. Yes, the lullaby is my own creation. Not my best, but at least I'm happy with the syllable count.
> 
> As I noted in the tags, this story is currently a 4+1 Things. However, I prefer the 5+1 format but couldn't for the life of me think of a good fifth idea. If you have any ideas of a prompt in which Max might need, want, or coerce David into playing the guitar for him, please let me know! Will totally dedicate the chapter to you. Thank you!


	2. To Pacify

It was a typical summer night when Max found himself in front of the counselors cabin. He glared at the closed door (though unlocked as David wanted the campers to know they could come to him or Gwen with anything they needed at any time). He glared at the large window that looked into the dark communal living room where two chairs sat stoically in the dark. He glared at the Camp Campbell Campe Diem flag hanging listlessly with no nightly breeze to wave it.

Hands shoved deep in his hoodie pockets, Max glared; the tired shadows yawning under his eyes made him seem as if he were manifested from the shadows themselves, aqua eyes two glowing pinpricks under a sliver of a moon high in the sky. His mouth was set in a hard, grim line as he mulled over his options.

He could, 1) go back to bed and toss and turn until insomnia finally relinquished its vice-like grip on Max’s mind, 2) wander around the campground until he eventually pounded insomnia into submission, or 3) wake David the fuck up.

Granted, David wasn’t Max’s first choice for company but Neil was a surprisingly heavy sleeper and Nikki tended to lash out with teeth and claws against anyone who tried to wake her against her will. And no way was he going near Gwen. Some genius asshole made up the saying “Never poke a sleeping bear” for a reason. But then, some other asshole had coined the term, “Misery loves company,” so here Max was, perfectly ready and willing to drag David down into his misery.

And maybe – just maybe, some pushed down thought in the back of his mind reminded – Max wanted David’s company for more than just shared misery. Maybe, just maybe he wanted David’s company in hopes that the ever-enthusiastically optimist man of endless bubbling positivity, might be able to reach right down through Max’s misery and pull the boy free. It’s all the counselor tried to do every day during camp. Maybe, just maybe, those duties could extend into the night, just this once.

Damn it, Max just wanted to sleep. David was a distraction and Max could easily start the man off on one of his long-winded boring-ass stories. That would be sure to help Max nod off to sleep.

Decision made, Max plucked a handful of pebbles up from the ground and walked to the side of the cabin that housed the lanky camp man. He deftly flicked a stone at the darkened window with a sharp “tink.” Without bothering to wait if David heard him, Max let loose another pebble, then another in rapid succession, the small stones pattering insistently against the window.

Four pebbles in and the window slid open. A head popped out, familiar tuft of red hair peeking out from under a sleeping cap. Tired green eyes blinked out into the dark.

“Wha-?” came the confused voice as David squinted at Max. “Max? What are you-?” David let out a panicked yelp as Max’s last pebble came whizzing through the window. David managed to duck in time, the stone passing harmlessly overhead.

“Max!” David scolded in a loud whisper.

Max snickered, hands back in his pockets. “Evening, David,” he said with exaggerated sweetness.

“I think you mean good morning,” David muttered, rubbing a across his face.

“I thought you were a morning person.”

“Not when most of my night was dedicated to cleaning up the mess your little prank caused.”

“What?” Max shrugged innocently, “It was just a simple game of hide and seek. You said it would be a team-building exercise, or some shit.”

“You super glued every camper to their hiding spot, Max”

Max gave a modest half-shrug. “Sounds like someone is being a sore loser.”

David sighed but didn’t close the window on Max (or throw something through it as Gwen had been discovered to do). Instead, he folded long arms against the windowsill and leaned forward.

“What can I do for you, Max?”

The bluntness of the question caught the boy by some surprise. After having survived another day of hell crafted from the boy's very own hands, David was still ready and willing to go out of his way and do more. What was wrong with the counselor? Max squinted suspiciously at David but the man only stared back, a soft, almost fond smile already lifting the corners of his mouth and sincerity shining in green eyes.

“Who says I want anything from you?”

“Why else would you be knocking on my window this early?”

“I don’t know, cause I’m an asshole.”

“You are many things, Max,” David chuckled lightly. “But I would never call you an asshole.”

“Gwen would.”

“Yeah, I’d say so. Want me to get her?”

“No!” Max said a little too quickly, with a little too much panic in his voice. David laughed again and Max glared until he apologetically cleared his throat.

“What can I get for you?” David asked again, amusement twinkling in his eyes. That and something else. Oh god, was that happiness? Was that damned bastard happy Max had come to him?

Max clenched his jaw. He flickered his eyes down to glare at the dirt. “Nevermind, It’s stupid.”

He started to turn to leave.

“Wait, Max,” David called after him.

Max shot a side-long glance over his shoulder.

David’s gaze cast about in search of something. He scanned the dark room behind him and then turned back to Max with a wide smile. “Let’s do a practice session.”

Max gave a start. “What?”

David dived into the darkness of his room and reappeared only a second later, guitar in his hand. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I want to see how much you’ve improved. Hope you’ve been practicing.”

The ukulele David had bought him as a gift was in a secure and secret location near Max’s tent. The boy brought it out only when it was safe to play; when no one else was around. With the instructional books David had given him and with David’s occasional nightly lessons, Max was getting pretty good. Didn’t mean he had planned on playing tonight, though.

“Right now? Do you know what fucking time it is?” It sounded somewhat hypocritical, sure, but Max wasn’t sure what else to say.

“The best time to practice,” David enthused, unperturbed. “You’re awake, I’m awake, everyone else is asleep. It’s the perfect time.”

Max struggled with a comeback, a retort, a refusal. But he had nothing. Playing his ukulele, listening to David’s guitar. Both sounded absolutely fucking fantastic right now and the appeal was too strong to outright deny.

“All right, fine, let me get it so we can get this stupid thing over with,” he grumbled, turning away again to hide the excitement growing in his chest.

“I’ll meet you at our usual spot,” David called brightly behind him.

Max rolled his eyes but couldn’t tamper down the smile rising to his lips.

It didn’t take long for Max to dig up the ukulele from where he had it securely lodged it in the upturned roots of a pine tree. It was carefully wrapped in the hoodie his parents had mailed to him to protect it from the wildlife. Luckily it didn’t rain more than a few light summer showers here and there or else the meager protection of the pine needles and thick roots would not have been enough to keep the instrument safe and dry.

Max clutched one of his most treasured possessions (not that he would ever forget Mr. Honey Nuts) to his chest and trotted in the direction of Lake Lilac. David was already there waiting for him. The man waved him over to a circle of light created by a small solar lantern on the ground. Max resisted the urge to flip him off.

David was still in his pajamas but had thrown on a long-sleeve flannel shirt and traded his hat for a blanket which he had draped over his legs. When Max took his usual seat in front of him, David handed over a second blanket. Max tossed it around his shoulders.

“Here,” David said, next offering Max a small thermos. Warm liquid sloshed when Max took it.

“Hot cocoa?” Max asked, unimpressed.

“Of course,”

Max made a face. David knew his preference for coffee but still only supplied the boy with hot chocolate during their practice sessions. It was something though. David only used real chocolate for his recipe and not once had the drink ever been scalding or burned Max’s tongue. It was the perfect temperature every time and not too sugary sweet like how the other campers preferred. Max took a gulp of the drink, forgetting for a moment how much he wanted coffee.

David had his guitar on his lap and was making sure the strings were still tuned just how he liked them. Max put down the thermos and examined his ukulele as well, making sure the tuning pegs hadn’t moved during the time in the tree roots.

“You want to start?” David asked, smiling that stupid smile he always reserved, just for Max, no matter what chaos the boy caused.

“Nah, you play first,” Max waved with feigned disinterest. He enjoyed playing, but he liked listening to David play even more. The man was a fucking master with the guitar, able to play any song just by listening to it, and able to make his own music just by fiddling with the strings.

David nodded his acknowledgment and pressed his fingers down on a chord before strumming a high, melodious sound. Max didn’t think he’d ever get tired of listening to David play, not that he’d ever admit it, least of all to the man himself.

David created an upbeat melody, hitting the notes and chords with perfect precision. He played this for a while, and then the song shifted to something more familiar and he looked up at Max expectantly. That was his cue.

Max obligingly struck the next chord with David and then the two were playing in synch together; Max taking the higher notes and David the lower.

“ _Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world.  
She took a midnight train going a-ny-where.”_ David sang.

“ _Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit.  
He took a midnight train going anywhere,” _ Max continued.

They took turns singing the verses but Max let David take the high parts alone. Last time Max had tried, his voice had cracked and he felt down right mortified as David did his best to politely hide his laughter. David let Max handle the instrumental solo though, offering guidance where the boy struggled.

As the song was winding to a close, Max was finding it harder to keep his eyes open and his fingers moving. Damn it, David chose a long song on purpose didn’t he? Max ended the last note with a yawn.

“Excellent!” David cheered proudly. “I told you all that practice and patience would pay off. I think you’re ready to take on the Eagles now. Maybe even Gun N’ Roses.”

“They sound cool,” Max said, trying to swallow another yawn.

“They are cool.” David concurred. “But maybe not right now. I think I kept you up late enough.”

“Early enough, you mean,” Max corrected coyly.

“Sure, bud.” Max blamed the fatigue for his lack of violent response when David reached over to ruffle his hair. “Bed time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Max sighed and stood.

He waited for David to fold up his blanket but let Max keep the one still pulled across his shoulders. Max offered to hold the empty thermos while David scooped up the lantern. Then, with their instruments clutched close, the two made their way back to Max’s tent.

“Get ready for tomorrow, camp man,” Max said in lieu of a good night. “I’ve got some new ideas planned up for you.”

“Looking forward to it, Max,” David replied with a slight grimace. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”

“What?” Max spun around to stare up at David.

“Nothing,” David amended quickly. He gave the boy another pat on the head. “Good night, Max. Sleep well.”

With that, he walked away, the light going with him. Max watched him go with mild confusion before huffing out an irritated sigh. Yep, something was definitely wrong with the counselor. No person in their right mind would smile at Max, _fucking Max_ , like he was the most important thing in the world. Not after all the shit he pulled every minute of every goddamn day. Maybe delusion was just a side-affect of the stress of having to deal with him.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Max slipped silently into his tent, mindful of the lightly snoring Neil and whining Nikki. Too tired to go back out and hide his ukulele, it was placed fondly with Mr. Honey Nuts. With sleep finally pulling at his consciousness, Max flopped onto his bed, David’s blanket pulled tight around him and the pillow soft under his head. With Journey idly flittering through his mind, Max drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you don't know, the song they're singing is Journey's "Don't Stop Believing." I figure David would start with teaching some of the classics that still hold much of their popularity today. I also have no doubt he can hit those high notes perfectly.
> 
> Thank you to, you, my lovely readers and to my wonderful commentors.  
> Remember, if you see a typo, please let me know!


	3. To Learn

Max was frustrated. Which, in the grand scheme of things, was nothing new. The boy was a known bundle of frustration, irritation, and sarcasm wrapped up in a small, ten year old body.

But today was a different kind of frustration, one that felt foreign even to him.

He was frustrated with himself.

Ukulele in hand, cross-legged in the forest as far from camp as he dared go (just to be out of earshot but not far enough that should one of those psychos who liked to murder teenagers, like on tv, show up, he could still run and call for help). His fingers ghosted along the neck, looking for the right chord, but every time he strummed, the sound was slightly off from what he wanted. Sometimes he hit a right note but then the next one soured and he had to start again to get the right order.

It was hard. He had excelled fairly well on the ukulele with the songs he learned from his song books and the ones David had taught him, but trying to figure out a song for himself was more difficult than he thought. Stupid David always made it look so easy: put the song in your head and it would automatically travel to your fingers. Fuck, this was hard.

Max groaned and bumped his head back against the tree he was leaning against. He didn’t have a songbook for this, and this godforsaken camp didn’t seem to realize that that internet had been invented so that meant he couldn’t download a tutorial or sheet music. He supposed he could steal David’s phone (again, god the man made it too easy) and sneak away to town somehow. Maybe he could pick up a signal long enough to watch a video or save a picture of the notes. But that would take more time than he had and more effort than he really wanted to spend.

Besides, there was always plan B.

“Max!”

Speaking of plan B, here he came now.

“Max! Where are you!” David called again, voice carrying a note of desperate panic. His loud shouts broke the peaceful quiet and Max rolled his eyes.

“Over here,” Max called back with no attempt at keeping the boredom out of his own voice. He stood, ukulele dangling in his hand.

David snapped his head towards Max’s voice and, upon seeing the boy, relief washed over him in a wave Max could practically see.

“Max, you cannot run off like that. I was beginning to really get scared.” David trotted over to the boy, a thankful smile already brightened his previously worried features. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.”

“What are you even doing all the way out-” David stopped short when he noticed the ukulele. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Max. Again?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Listen,” David started gently. He knelt down to be on level with Max. “I’m happy you want to practice playing. Positively pleased really. But you can’t go wandering off whenever you want like this.”

“Nothing happened. Stop getting your knickers in a twist.” He didn’t know what the phrase meant (and he sure as hell didn’t know what the fuck a “knicker” was) but he had seen a similar exchange on tv and the phrase seemed to fit the current situation.

David frowned, brows furrowing. So, clearly David knew what a “knicker” was. Must be an old person thing.

“You left in the middle of a camp activity without telling me or Gwen, or any of the other campers. I didn’t know where you were. If you _had_ been hurt or lost out here, then I wouldn’t have known where you were or how to help. So excuse me if I get my ‘knickers in a twist’ but you are not to run off like this ever again. Is that understood?”

Max dropped his gaze. Maybe he was in more trouble than he thought. David was using his “grown-up” tone, the one he reserved only for portraying how upset he really was, how disappointed. It was typically followed by some threat of punishment that rarely was ever carried out. but Max knew the implications of the “grown-up” voice all the same. David had been really worried.

“I get it,” Max answered (and he was definitely not pouting). “Didn’t mean to freak you out.” He glanced back up at David, some of the mischief back in his smirk. “But let’s face it: doesn’t take much to scare your chicken ass.”

“Language, Max. But I forgive you.”

Max shrugged the compassion off. “Now that you got that off your chest, are you going to help me or not?”

“Pardon?” David asked, clearly caught by surprise.

Max waggled the ukulele at him.

“You need help? With a song?”

“Why do you think I was out here?”

“You don’t like making friendship bracelets?”

“Well yeah, but I mean besides that?”

“What do you need help with?”

It was so damn easy to distract the tall man with a request for help. The fucking guy did whatever he could for whoever came to him for aid. Didn’t matter who asked. Didn’t matter what they wanted. Max didn’t doubt that David would give up a kidney if Max said he needed it. A plan for another day perhaps.

“I can’t get this song right,” Max answered honestly, grimacing at his ukulele. “I don’t know how to play it and I can’t match the notes to the music.”

“Why did you come all the way out here to try?” David asked, head tilted in an amusing portrait of confusion.

“We both know the answer to that,” Max snapped back.

“How long are you going to hide your talent from your friends?”

“For forever.”

“Don’t you want to share it with them? I think they’d be very impressed.”

“Fucking drop it, David, and do something useful.”

Max held out the ukulele to David, expecting the man to take it and teach him the proper notes. David had already proven himself capable of matching the right notes to the song once he listened to Max sing it. David hesitatingly took the offered instrument and Max plopped himself back down against the tree and cleared his throat in preparation to sing. When he glanced up expectantly at David, his counselor had yet to move.

David was looking back the way he had come.

“Gwen can manage for a few minutes,” Max assured knowingly. “It’s fucking _friendship bracelets_. What can go wrong?”

David didn’t respond just yet. His eyes shifted in thought and he fretted at his bottom lip uneasily. One hand went to rub at the back of his neck. He was looking awfully guilty for ditching Gwen and the other campers to fulfill Max’s request. Max almost felt guilty for putting David in such a position. Almost.

When David _still_ had yet to make a decision, Max went for the Hail Mary: “Please.”

At last, David sighed. “Okay, but we have to make it quick.”

“Of course,” Max said, grinning from his victory.

David sank down in front of Max so the boy could easily see his fingers. He checked the strings of the ukulele, adjusted his grip to the smaller instrument, and gave it a few experimental strums. When he was ready, he looked to Max. Max understood the signal and started singing slowly, making sure to emphasize the highs and lows of the song. He kept the upbeat, fast tempo with a slap of his open palm against his leg.

“ _We all are stranger creatures than when we all started out as kids._  
_Culture forbids._  
 _We have romantic fantasies about what dying truly is,_  
 _To fall off the grid.”_

If David had any qualms with the lyrics, he didn’t say anything. Max had long ago stopped being afraid of David’s judgment about what or how he sang. He never questioned the songs Max wanted to learn, listening to the melody more than the words. David seemed to enter a hyper-focused mode whenever Max asked him to play and teach a song Max sang. It was impressive and a skill Max was deeply appreciative of. Not that he’d say that out loud. ~~~~

So Max sang confidently as he watched David listen with half-closed eyes. The man’s long, slender fingers moved silently along the neck of the ukulele, mentally taking note of the chords necessary to reconstruct the song.  
  
_"I know there's someone at the door._  
 _They called for help, of this I'm sure._  
 _But do I want to say goodbye_  
 _To all the glowing eyes?_  
 _I'm holding on to what I know,_  
 _And what I know I must let go._  
 _But I would rather play a song_  
 _For the eyes to sing along.”_

Max stopped. The second verse and repeated choruses were pretty much the same for the rest of the song so he only needed to give David the beginning to give him an idea how the song should play.

David stayed silent in his thoughtful trance, fingers still moving, brow furrowed in concentration.

At last, his fingers stilled over a chord and Max quickly grabbed at a stick to write the chord down in the dirt for him to remember. Eyes still closed, David started playing. He played the first chorus twice to indicate the instrumental beginning of the song, Max doing his best to keep up by scrawling the appropriate chords into the earth.

Focused in his task, he missed the look David peeked at him. Seeing the boy not only understand what notes he was playing but taking the effort to write them down as well, made David’s heart swell with overjoyed pride. Pinpricks of wetness collected at the corners of his eyes and caught on his lashes. He let them dry, Max too preoccupied to notice.

“Please keep singing,” David requested, voice full of emotion.

Max lifted his gaze to him curiously. But all he saw was his camp counselor sitting in the dirt, playing Max’s ukulele with a steady hands and a skill Max hoped to one day accomplish.

The boy willingly started the song over and David joined in with the music, correcting any notes he messed up and that Max’s voice instructed. Absently singing, Max continued to write out the rest of the song and then checked through his work as he sang on through to the next verse and then the last chorus. Before he realized, he had sang the whole song.

When the last notes faded beside Max’s voice, counselor and camper looked at each other, grinning.

“Permission to go back to camp?” David asked, smile as bright in his eyes as it was on his face.

“Granted,” Max nodded.

David handed the ukulele back and stood with a long stretch. Max was already staring down at his notes and pressing his fingers to the strings in practice.

“I’ll give you about half an hour to practice on your own,” David announced kindly.

Max arched an eyebrow at him. “So, now I can stay here unsupervised?”

“I know it’s not ideal but I’d hate for you to lose all your hard work.”

“What about wild animals and hitchhiking killers?”

David chuckled. “That’s why I’m leaving this with you.”

David held out a silver whistle on a string out to Max. “First sign of trouble, you run towards camp and whistle as loud as you can. I’ll come running, I promise.”

“So you can get eaten by wild animals or killed by hitchhikers?” Max asked dubiously. He took the whistle.

“Hopefully not. But my priority is to the safety of my campers.”

Max looked down at the whistle. He twirled it between his fingers, the silvery metal glinting in the sunshine.

“I’ll come get you in thirty minutes,” David concluded and turned to go.

“Hey, David?”

David turned, surprised at the sudden vulnerability in Max’s voice. The boy was stubbornly looking down at the whistle. He glanced to the side then lifted his gaze to David. He opened his mouth, closed it, then decided on, “Don’t get lost.”

It was as close to a thank you as he was going to get.

David smiled back. “Sure thing, Max.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is "Glowing Eyes" by Twenty-One Pilots, because of course Max listens to them.
> 
> I am so incredibly thankful to you all for reading and for my lovely comments! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story and like the concept of a ukulele-playing Max as much as I do.
> 
> I did get a prompt idea for my fifth chapter and will go right back to writing it as soon as I post, so look forward to that.


	4. To Distract

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **BearBear8** : "Maybe another prompt you could use is maybe Max gets injured at some point, and it's bad enough to require actual medical attention but the ambulance won't be there for a while so Max asks David to play him the guitar to calm him down and so he doesn't focus on his injury as much maybe??"
> 
> Thank you to BearBear8 for the prompt idea. This chapter is dedicated to you!
> 
> (Also, be warned, there is mention of blood and injury in this chapter that may unsettle a weak stomach)

The afternoon brought with it a dazzling blue sky, a blazing bright sun, and words David had hoped he’d never have to hear:

“David! Max is in trouble, you have to come quick!”

The can of paint David was carrying over to Dolph for today’s Art Camp activity, slipped out of suddenly limp fingers. The can clattered to the ground, a wave a red splattering against the dirt and mixing with the brown to create a disconcerting muddy mess the color of rust.

“Wha-?”

Nikki lunged at him. She scaled his body as easy as a squirrel scurrying up a tree until she was perched on his shoulder, yanking on the bandana around his neck, and screaming in his ear.

“Move it, David! We have to go now! He’s hurt!”

Like a runner taking off at the sound of the starting gun, David bolted. Long legs careened him past startled campers who could only stop and stare at the sudden blur of their counselor running passed. With all the ease (but none of the grace) of a bounding deer, David dashed over any obstacle that tried to prevent him from taking the fastest and most straightforward path towards the trees.

Gwen was shouting at him to “Come back!” but when that fell on deaf ears, she resigned to “At least wait, idiot!” 

Even if he had been aware of his surroundings, Gwen would have been impossible to hear over Nikki’s shouting in David’s ear. Clinging tight to his bandana as if it were the reigns to a bucking bronco, Nikki relayed her orders to, “Go straight! Turn here! Past that tree! Left now, now! Keep going! Faster!”

The trees clawed and scratched and tore but David shouldered through branches and leaves leaving behind only snapped twigs and fluttering foliage to mark which direction he had come. Nikki whooped loudly and kicked her heels against David’s chest, urging him to go faster, faster.

He burst out of a bushel of bushes and his feet slid against the leveled earth of a well-worn footpath of some large, heavy animal. The long grass had been trampled down in the center and pushed to the sides from use.

“Whoa there, easy boy!” Nikki called, tugging back on the bandana.

David dug his heels into the dirt to slow to a stop. Panting heavily against a tight chest, face red and beaded with sweat, and legs burning from being pushed to their limits, David cast his gaze about in search of a familiar blue hoodie, black hair, and piercing aqua eyes among the green and brown of the forest floor.

Nikki deftly hopped off his shoulders and landed soundlessly on her feet in front of him. “This way.”

She led him a few paces along the trail, sharp eyes scanning the grass and the shadows burrowed near the roots of trees. David staggered after her, hand at his chest as he both tried to catch his breath and to steady his hammering heart that had yet to calm after hearing Max was in trouble. He knew only the sight of the boy alive and well would be able to stop the constricting of his stomach, the tightness of his throat, and the painful throb of his heart.

“There,” Nikki pointed to the trunk of a thick pine just off to the side of the animal trail.

David followed her finger and a relieved exhale made his whole body shudder.

Max was sitting against the trunk: a small, blue ball curled up under the wide canopy of thick pine needles. Knees pressed against his chest, his head was bowed and face hidden in the crook of one arm, the other lying limp at his side. Neil sat next to him, hands hovering over his friend worriedly but unsure what to do.

David took his first even breath since his sprint in preparation to call out to the boys. He took a step forward, foot crunching against the crisp grass and fallen needles.

A sudden feral hissing made the greeting die in David’s throat and he froze. Max and Neil snapped their heads up, eyes instantly locking onto David’s. Neil jumped to his feet, the epitome of nervousness with his shaking hands curled at his chest. Max looked more surprised to see David than scared of the hissing. But then, the boy had always been the bravest of them all.

“Are you okay?” David asked them, furtive gaze searching for the origin of the continuing hiss. He took another tentative step forward.

“David, stop!” Max commanded desperately, hand up and urging David not to take another step.

The hissing intensified and came thundering closer as movement in the grass snaked its way towards David.

David yelped and backpedaled. He snatched a hand down to grab at Nikki – who, or course, was going towards the hissing. Holding her tight to his chest, David tripped backwards until a tree prevented him from going another further.

From out of the tall grass burst a familiar beaver-like body and the long bill of a duck.

“You?!” David asked incredulously.

The camp mascot hissed again and hopped back onto its tail to kick dangerous feet threateningly at David. It snapped angry teeth at the counselor which made him only shrink back against the tree with another yelp.

“Hey stop that, David’s one of the good guys” Nikki chided, shaking her finger at the platypus as she tried to wriggle out of David’s grip.

“David’s here to help,” Neil supplied helpfully, fidgeting closer.

The platypus only gnashed its teeth again, keeping itself and its kicking feet between David and the boys behind it.

“Give it a rest,” Max growled almost as ferociously as the platypus. He struggled to his feet, one hand against the tree for support. Once standing, he stumbled towards David. “We’re fine now. David is the least threatening thing here. He’s not going to hurt us.”

When Neil and Max drew closer, the platypus stomped back down onto its feet and herded the boys back with a heavy swish of its tail. Neil and Max were forced to jump back or risk getting swept right off their feet.

“Lay off you stupid animal!” Max shouted, clearly frustrated now. “It’s fucking _David_ , all right? He’s the one fucking person in this whole damn camp you should be trusting.”

The platypus ignored the orders (though that could really just be a result of a lack of cross-species communication more than anything) and shuffled closer to David: mouth open and tail waving in the air.

David drew his legs closer away from the animal but he didn’t feel as afraid as he had before. He felt he knew what the platypus was doing, and what he could do to earn its trust.

David released Nikki. The girl sprung out of his arms with a triumphant cheer and landed in front of the platypus. Before she could reprimand its poor behavior, the platypus promptly shooed Nikki towards the boys with several nudges of its tail.

“I understand your protecting my campers,” David addressed the platypus. It snapped its attention back to him and arched its back, the insistent hissing continued. David slowly straightened and shifted into a sitting position in front of the wild animal-turned-camp mascot. “And I thank you for taking care of them in my absence.”

The platypus stopped its hissing and glared up at David with beady black eyes.

“But Nikki tells me Max is hurt and I have to take care of him,” David continued imploringly. “Please let me have my campers back. I’ll keep them safe, I promise.”

The platypus regarded David a moment more and, by god, maybe Nikki wasn’t too far off with that animal communication stuff. The gaze of the creature seemed rather judgmental and after a few more seconds passed, David couldn’t shake the feeling that his person was under attack at the moment, or at the very least, was getting heavily scrutinized.

At last, the platypus gave an unimpressed “Muack” and toddled off into the grass, leaving the counselor to deal with his campers.

David released a held breath and rose shakily to his feet.

“Told you he was a gypsy,” Nikki half-whispered to Max and Neil, hiding her mouth behind her hand. Neil rolled his eyes at her and Max let out a low groan.

David was quick to kneel in front of the kids, eyes already on Max, hand reaching to take the boy’s shoulder. “Are you all right? Nikki said you were hurt. What’s wrong?”

Max didn’t meet David’s eyes, instead choosing to keep both his gaze and his body slightly angled away from the older man. He had one hand shoved in his pocket, but his other, the one he stubbornly kept out of David’s line of sight, hung loosely at his side.

“Max.”

Max huffed out an irritated sound and rolled his eyes again. “Fuck, it’s not even that big a deal. I’m fine.”

Despite his words, David could feel the small shoulder shaking against his palm. Examining Max further revealed an unnatural tightness in the boy's face that made Max’s frown more prominent than usual, and his eyes were lined with red from fatigue and the strain of forcing back tears. The boy swallowed heavily and sniffed.

“Max, please,” David pleaded, his own voice tight with concern. His gaze flickered apprehensively down to the arm Max seemed to be intentionally hiding.

The glance Max shot at David almost seemed instinctual rather than deliberate – the boy unconsciously responding to David’s open plea; unconsciously seeking comfort.

“Don’t get weird,” was the only warning David was given before Max faced him fully and held out his hidden arm.

The hand around Max’s shoulder tightened, the other going up to cover David’s mouth.

Littering Max’s arm, from his elbow all the way to his fingers, were the long, white-tipped quills of a porcupine. The sharp needle-like spikes had pierced clean through the boy’s blue hoodie to imbed into his soft flesh. The prongs poking up from his trembling hand looked the worst: dark spines buried in dark skin.

There was a dark splotch of red staining the blue cloth near Max’s wrist. Clearly the boy had ripped out one of the quills on his own. David flinched at the thought. Porcupine quills were notorious for the microscopic barbs at the tip of each quill. These barbs could easily tear up the flesh of any creature that tried to pry the quills out.

David reflexively moved to cup Max’s hand but he stopped himself, fingertips barely grazing the heel of the boy’s hand. He didn’t want to risk jostling Max’s hand and risk inflicting greater pain to the already suffering child.

 “Oh, Max…”

“I said don’t be weird. It’s not that bad.”

Poor boy could probably no longer move his hand. Max was resolutely not looking at David. He could see the boy’s jaw working as it clenched and unclenched. Still, Max lowered his hand into David’s.

“What happened?”

“It was my fault!” Nikki gushed urgently. Her lip quivered whenever her eyes caught on Max’s hand. Her own hand unconsciously sought Neil’s for support and he gripped her hand tight. “We went exploring and I saw this big fat thing with all these little spikes poking out at it and I wanted to see what it was.”

She was talking too fast and gesticulating wildly with her free hand. Neil was doing his best to hang on to her other hand in order to continuing offering his physical comfort.

“Neil tried to warn me, but as soon as he told me porcupines are practically a walking armory of tiny swords, I had to have one. But when I got too close it started freaking out and coming at me with all its little swords up. It would have stabbed me but Max-” The words caught in her throat and Nikki stopped short.

“Max tried to hit it away and got stabbed,” Neil finished with a wavering voice. “That porcupine would have gone after us too if the platypus hadn’t popped out of nowhere and scared it off.”

“We’ll have to give it extra potatoes for dinner as a thank you,” Nikki sniffled with a wavering breath. She brushed an arm under her nose.

“I think that’s a great idea,” David agreed, eyes still glued to Max’s arm. He glanced at the boy’s face to see Max was still pointedly avoiding his gaze. Or maybe he was just avoiding looking anywhere near the sight of at least two dozen quills impaled in his arm. “But first, we need to take care of Max and get all these quills out. Carefully.”

Nikki and Neil nodded enthusiastically. Max only grunted.

“Come on, then.” Without warning, but with infinite care, David scooped Max up, injured arm facing out.

“Hey!” Max retorted with a violent wiggle. The movement made him hiss in pain and he immediately stilled. He was tense in David’s arm and resisted leaning too comfortable against the man’s chest.

“I can fucking walk, David,” he argued, words sharp. “My legs are fine.”

David shifted his grip to nestle the boy closer, more secure. “It’s a bit of a walk back,” David explained kindly. “And this way I can make sure you don’t accidently bump against anything.”

Judging by Max’s sullen silence and no further complaint, David figured he had won the argument. That and maybe Max had decided he really didn’t want to walk all the way back to camp with a damaged arm.

“Ooh! Pick me up too, David, I wanna be tall too!” Nikki gushed, jumping around David’s feet.

“My hands are full right now,” David said apologetically, trying to step around Nikki and keep Max clear in case the girl bumped his arm.

“No problem.”

Just like before, Nikki expertly scampered up David and perched on his shoulder, grabbing onto his hair to steady herself. David grunted at the sudden (though minimal) addition of weight before walking forward, Neil trotting to keep up at his side.

It didn’t take long for David to find a marked path and to start in the direction back towards camp. It took even less time for Max to relax in David’s arm, head bumping up against the man’s shoulder; injured arm tucked over the boy’s stomach. Max closed his eyes against the sight of his arm and let his mind wander as he drifted. David was so careful and Max barely felt any movement. It almost felt like floating. Except for the all-around dull ache throbbing nonstop up and down his arm.

All too soon, Max was stirred from the peaceful quiet when David’s voice said gently, “Neil, Nikki, go on ahead and tell Gwen to call Charlie.”

“Who’s that?” Nikki’s voice, full of open curiosity.

“The local vet from town.”

“What’s a vet going to be able to do?” Neil’s voice, full of doubt and suspicion.

“She handles cases like this all the time,” David answered. “That woman’s clipped a quill out of pretty much every animal around here at some point or another. That count includes humans as well.”

There was a pause which Max assumed was Neil and Nikki shrugging at each other before their footsteps hurried off.

“You awake, Max?” David murmured a beat later.

“Rather not be,” Max grumbled in response, cracking open one eye.

David’s hair was an impossible shade of red against the backdrop of blue sky. His eyes were the greenest green Max had ever seen when the older man looked down at him and smiled sympathetically.

“Help’s on that way,” David assured him.

Max wasn’t sure what to make of the feeling bubbling up in his chest. It didn’t feel right. No, that wasn’t it. It did feel right. It felt fucking amazing. It just felt foreign, that was it. It was a feeling he wasn’t used to feeling, maybe even a feeling he never thought he _could_ feel. It was something more than trust for the man that promised relief from this pain; more than gratitude for the man that had raced through the woods with only the single focus of reaching Max. It was the feeling Max felt whenever he was simply in the man’s presence: sitting together practicing a new song, feeling the weight of a hand ruffle his hair affectionately, even now with Max nestled in David’s arms.

It felt… safe.

That was it, that was the word, the feeling. He felt safe here with David. Safer than he ever felt at school. At home. With his parents.

Well, fuck. When did that happen?

The smile at Max’s revelation was lost when he heard the shouts of the other campers. Damn it, he may feel safe but it was goddamn embarrassing to be seem entering the camp being carried like a fucking damsel in distress.

Thankfully, David made a beeline for the counselor’s cabin, politely deterring the campers’ questions and general nosiness. Max flipped them off with his good hand.

Gwen was holding the cabin door open for them, saying some thank you’s and a goodbye into her cellphone. Nikki and Neil skipped around David’s feet as the taller man walked in with Max. They plunged into the crowd of curious campers, Nikki already enthusiastically recreating the exciting saga of the encounter with the savage Porcupine of a Thousand Tiny Swords and of Courageous Max who shielded his friends and wrestled with the Beast until the sudden appearance of The Pussiest Platypus saved them all with a ferocious snap of its mighty teeth! Gwen closed the door with a last shout for the kids to “Go eat your shitty lunch already!”

“Did you get in contact with Charlie?” David asked, walking over to his chair.

“Yeah, she’s on her way,” Gwen replied readily. She grimaced at Max. “Fuck, kid, you look like a pincushion. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking you should be minding your own business,” Max spat as David gingerly placed him down into the cushions. Max rested his spiny arm on the armrest and experimentally flexed his fingers. He winced with a sharp intake of breath. Nope. Not doing that again.

“Gwen, Max is hurt because he saved his fellow camper. And Max, Gwen is only showing her concern… in her own way. Be nice, you two.” David dug around a moment in his desk and pulled out an old-looking first aid kit.

Gwen and Max flipped each other off politely behind David’s back.

“Here we are,” David announced, bringing the kit over and kneeling down in front of Max. He pulled out an antiseptic spray and gave a few swift spurts of the disinfectant over Max’s hand. The spray stung but the coolness of it felt good in comparison to the heat radiating off his skin.

Next, David pulled out a bottle of children’s aspirin.

“Got anything stronger?” Max asked, eyeing the bottle disapprovingly.

“Now, Max, you’re too young for a stronger medicine. This will have to do,” David said, twisting open the bottle.

“Here, you little shit,” Gwen interrupted, holding out two adult aspirin. “Don’t say I never get you anything nice.”

“Gwen!” David admonished.

Max grinned and swiped both painkillers before David could grab them.

“If you’re going to take those, just take one, a higher dose isn’t good for-”

Before David could finish, Max popped both pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry. David made a protesting noise as his face paled slightly. Max simply sighed contently and leaned back in the chair. Now all he had to do was wait for the painkillers to kick in and for the vet to come and pluck out the quills. And hey, he had managed to get out of camp activities too. Probably for a few days even. If it wasn’t for the dilapidating throb of pain that assaulted his arm with every fucking beat of his heart, he’d say this day had turned out to be a win.

David unhappily put the children’s aspirin away and closed the first aid kit, returning it to the desk. There was very little else he could do with it. He had next to no experience with removing porcupine quills safely, painlessly, and he didn’t want to risk doing anything wrong just to selfishly push down his overwhelming sense of uselessness by doing something.

He would just have to wait for Charlie and her professional experience to help Max. But that was the worst part: the waiting. Being forced to just stop and wait and stare at Max who had slumped in his chair, face pale and tense with pain, small hand trembling; the dark red stain drying on his hoodie over a wound David had yet to see and still could not see because a mess of quills had pinned the fabric to Max’s skin, and trying to get a glimpse of the damage would only likely cause more.

David took a deep breath to try and calm his runaway thoughts. He wrung his hands, rubbed at the back of his neck, gripped his arms. What could he do? He couldn’t do anything. Max was right here in front of him _in pain_ and he couldn’t do a fucking thing.

“Hey, David?”

“Yes, Max?” He spun around too quick, answered too fast. Gwen blinked at him with mild concern but he pretended not to notice. “Can I get you something?”

“Gwen can get me a cup of coffee,” he said blatantly, shooing her away with his good hand.

“Oh, can I?” Gwen asked, voice dripping with something venomous. Surprisingly, however, she moved away towards the coffee machine. “I’ll get you coffee all right,” she grumbled darkly. She pulled out a cup and fresh grounds. “Black as your soul?” she asked sweetly.

“Just how I like it,” Max grinned back.

“What about me?” David asked, fidgeting where he stood. “What can I do?”

Max looked at him for a moment as if he expected David to already know what he wanted. David shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other, having no idea what he had that might help the boy.

“Can you…?” Max started hesitatingly. He glanced away, caught sight of his hand, grimaced, and locked his gaze back on David. “Can you play something?”

“What?” The request caught him off guard.

“Don’t look too deeply into this or anything,” Max snapped quickly, avoiding David’s gaze again, but this time turning the other way so he wouldn’t have to see his hand. “It’s just that we might be here a while, waiting for this Charlie person, and I’m already bored. And I sure as hell can’t play.”

David was looking at Max with the happiest expression, eyes large and bright, smile huge and grinning.

“Look, just play something to pass the time so I can stop thinking about the fact that my fucking hand could now join the X-Men.”

A distraction. Yes, he could do that. There wasn’t much David could do, but he could do that.

“Sure thing, Max!” David practically cheered. He pulled out his guitar from behind his back where it was seemingly always waiting in preparation to be used. “I know just the song to pick up your spirits!

Standing in the middle of the room with Max in his chair and Gwen behind him with the gurgling coffee machine, David strummed his guitar and started up his song.

 _“Raindrops on roses_  
_And whiskers on kittens_  
_Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens_  
_Brown paper packages tied up with strings_  
_These are a few of my favorite things._ ”

“Oh, god, no.” Max’s scowl was the complete antithesis to David’s growing smile. He thought he heard Gwen snort behind him.

“Don’t like it?” David asked, mischief making his smile incline. “Here, let me change up the lyrics a bit:  
_Tall growing pines trees and guitar strumming_  
_Melted marshmallows_  
_And early morn running_  
_Camp Campbell with all the fun that it brings_  
_These are a few of my favorite things."_

“Dammit, David, fucking stop!” Max was doing his best to keep up his glare, but his frown was losing its strength against the lifting of his lips.

“ _When the platypus bites_  
_When the porcupine stings_  
_When I’m feeling sad_  
_I simply remember my fav-or-ite things_  
_And then I don’t feel so bad!”_

Max was laughing. Sure, he may have been laughing _at_ David more than he was laughing _with_ him, but David didn’t care. Max was laughing and that was more than enough for him. That was everything.

A sudden knock at the door cut off David’s next verse and all three in the room froze. Well, David and Gwen froze, eyes on the door: David with his hand in the air in preparation to strum; Gwen with Max’s steaming coffee in her hand ready to deliver.

Max, on the other hand, had _petrified._ The boy stared at the door with huge eyes, open wide with sudden fear. He was pressed back as far as he could go in David’s chair. His injured hand seemed to increase its trembling while his unscathed hand was gripping a handful of cushion hard enough to make the skin at his knuckles turn white. His eyes shot first to Gwen (who had stirred first and was making her way to the door) and then to David.

David couldn’t get up a smile fast enough and Max flinched.

Charlie was a wonderful woman and a darn good vet, but David couldn’t deny the fact that this was going to hurt. Max understood that perfectly the moment they locked eyes.

David knelt down, guitar discarded. His hands went up to cup Max’s face, keeping aqua eyes glued to green.

“It’s going to be okay,” he promised in a steady voice. “We’re going to be right here and you’re going to be okay.”

Max swallowed, took a shaky breath, and nodded slightly into David’s hands.

“So, where’s the patient?” a new voice asked.

David and Max both looked up to see the woman bustling passed Gwen and into the communal room, both hands gripping a heavy-duty toolbox. She was a short thing with a kind face littered with freckles. Her blonde hair was turning silver in some places and the two colors mingled nicely in a tight braid that ran down the length of her back. A pair of purple-spotted glasses perched on a button nose and magnified hazel eyes. Laugh lines lined her face and smiling mouth. If she had red hair, Max might have put money on her being related to David in some way.

“Here, Charlie,” David replied, standing to greet the older woman, but not before reaching down to give Max’s hand a quick squeeze.

“Davey, my boy, it’s good to see you,” Charlie greeted warmly, voice tinged with an accent David could never quite place. European? Somewhere in the UK? He was never given a straight answer when he asked either. Charlie kept her cards close to her chest when it came to her lineage.

“Glad to see you’re looking well,” David returned amiably. He bowed forward to let Charlie affectionately ruffle his hair and pat his cheek. The woman seemed to think it the funniest thing that David was so much taller. He rarely escaped an encounter without her asking, “How’s the weather up there?”

“As well as anyone can be,” Charlie said before coming to a stop in front of Max. He cowered away from her.

“And you must be Max,” Charlie spoke crisply in a tone reminiscent of a teacher about to scold a student for inappropriate behavior. “Sticking your hand into where it didn’t belong?”

“Oh no, it’s not like that!” David piped up immediately in defense. “Max here saved his friend from a rampaging porcupine.”

Charlie didn’t look at David but her gaze did soften on Max. “Points for bravery, I suppose. Ready to get those things out of your hand?”

“That’s why you’re fucking here, isn’t it?” Max asked in clear defiance.

“Max!” David warned. “Language!”

“I’ll forgive that,” Charlie said simply, “but only because I know you’re scared and in pain right now.”

“I’m not scared.”

“I’m a stranger with a box of tools coming to pull these things out of your hand. Of course you’re scared. All of my patients are – animal and human alike.”

Max glowered but didn’t say anything more. He did eye the toolbox apprehensively.

“But you don’t have to worry,” Charlie continued confidently, gently. “I’m very good at what I do and I’ll get these things out in no time.”

With that, she accepted the chair Gwen had wordlessly pulled over for her and opened up her toolbox.

Max took one look at the thin, metal medical clippers Charlie pulled out, and he motioned for Gwen. She sidled closer and he waved his hand impatiently at her. Understanding the gesture, she placed his cooled cup of coffee in his hand and he downed it in one go. Gwen took the cup back and placed it on the desk.

Next, Charlie brought out a small dish and placed it on the end of the armrest near Max’s fingers. She dug out two medical gloves and tugged these on as well with a neat slap of the plastic against her wrists.

Max swallowed nervously. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he warily eyed his hand. He looked away just as quickly, face noticeably paler. His gaze desperately sought the green eyes of his counselor still knelt before him.

“David?” he asked in a voice far too young.

David was quick to snatch up Max’s hand and the boy’s fingers wrapped tightly around his. “Yes, Max.”

“Can you keep playing?”

David shot his hand out and hurriedly grabbed his guitar. He hated that he had to relinquish his hold of Max’s hand, but if Max needed this distraction more than he needed physical comfort, than David would do what he had to do. Gwen smoothly took the hand David released and held tight.

“ _’Don't worry about a thing,_  
_‘Cause every little thing gonna be alright.’_  
_Singing' ‘Don't worry about a thing,_  
_‘Cause every little thing gonna be alright!’”_

Settling comfortably on her chair, Charlie leaned towards Max’s spiked hand and pushed her fingers against unblemished skin to keep the hand still. Max made a hiss with a sharp intake of breath and his whole body tried to shy away from the clippers even though his hand stayed pinned to the armrest.

Gwen immediately sat on the opposite armrest and circled one arm around Max’s shoulders as he leaned into her side.

Charlie positioned the medical pliers at the base of one of the quills – at the point where spike entered skin. “The trick is to pull it out quickly and smoothly,” she instructed aloud, voice politely interrupting the instrumental transition. Three pairs of eyes glanced at her, and she met Max’s eyes, gaze steady but carrying a soft sympathy. “It helps if you don’t look.”

Max instantly snapped his attention back to David, aqua eyes boring into the taller man; mouth a thin, determined line. David’s fingers fumbled over a note.

No, he needed to be brave for Max. Max needed him to be a distraction. He had to keep playing, no matter how much it pained him to see Max so _scared._

He started up a new tune, a new song.

“ _The sun will come up_  
_Tomorrow!_  
_Bet your bottom dollar_  
_That tomorrow_  
_They’ll be sun.”_

Charlie pinched the quill with her pliers and pulled straight up. Max winced, a small jolt making him shudder. He tightened his grip on Gwen’s hand and she hugged him closer. Charlie placed one bloodied quill in the dish and touched another. Max kept his gaze resolutely locked onto David.

“ _Just thinking about_  
_Tomorrow!_  
_Clears away the cobwebs_  
_And the sorrow_  
_‘Til there’s none.”_

Max might have chuckled or complained again about David’s choice of music. He might even have cracked a smile. Except, instead, he jerked and exhaled a sharp “Fuck!” as a particularly deeply buried quill was pulled free of his hand. This was added to the growing pile of quills in the dish. Charlie immediately moved to the next one, skilled hand removing the spikes one by one with ease.

The expletive and the flash of pain in the boy’s eyes made David’s hand slip. He flailed with a few idle notes and then covered the mistake with another transition into the chorus of a new song.

“ _When all you got to keep is strong_  
_Move along, move along like I know you do._  
_And even when your hope is gone_  
_Move along, move along just to make it through_  
_Move along.”_

Charlie cleared Max’s hand of quills. A few pinpricks of blood bubbled up from points where the quills had dug deeper into the flesh than others. She silently began working out the quills that travelled from Max’s wrist up to his elbow, plucking with expert precision. Max gave a small wince each time (and a blunt curse under his breath) but his gaze stayed stubbornly connected with David’s. Gwen’s arm remained clutched tight around the boy’s shoulders. David kept playing. It was all he could do.

“ _But, you gotta keep your head up,_  
_And you can let your hair down,_  
_I know it's hard_  
_To remember sometimes_  
_But, you gotta keep your head up,_  
_And you can let your hair down.”_

David faltered when Charlie pulled the last quill out and slid up Max’s sleeve. The boy’s arm was coated with a thin layer of fresh and dry blood mixing together like red paint in dirt. The pinpricks of blood smeared over dark skin and stained blue fabric. David could almost see the minuscule holes that speckled Max’s arm.

Worst of all was the wound at Max’s wrist, where the boy had clearly torn out one of the quills on his own. The skin was ragged and puckered with fresh blood oozing out. The surrounding skin was already beginning to bruise and added a nauseating hue of blue and black to the red. The wound wasn’t very big but it was bad. Charlie tsked the sloppy handiwork and briskly started to retrieve antibiotic and bandages from her toolbox.

David suddenly felt woozy at the sight and his stomach flipped uncomfortably. His fingers went numb and his mouth went dry. The music stopped. He felt that unnerving sensation of prickling behind his knees that came whenever he saw pain in someone else; whenever he even thought of pain in someone else. God, it looked like it hurt. And Max was so young. The boy didn’t deserve any of this.

He felt sick, his hands clammy, his head hot. Dammit, he should have been there. He should have prevented this. It should have been him. It should be him.

“David.”

David’s eyes lolled for a moment, unable to detach from the sight of Max’s arm, and yet wanting to do exactly that. He was panting, sweat beaded on his forehead.

“David!”

Max was waving his free hand in front of David’s face, trying to bring him back. There was concern in those aqua eyes: concern for David more than himself. David hated that. He hated this. Max was counting on him to be a distraction and David was failing. Even Gwen was starting to look worried, her arm loosening around Max as she angled towards David. No, Max needed her, he needed David. He had to snap out of it!

“ _When the platypus bites,_  
_When the porcupine stings,_  
_When I’m feeling sad._  
_I simply remember my favorite things_  
_And then I don’t feel so bad.”_

It was Max’s voice. Crisp and clear and strong and beautiful. David always loved it when Max sang. The boy had a wonderful voice, a natural talent. He would never be allowed to personally admit it to the boy (Max would absolutely hate it), but he tried to get Max to sing whenever he could just to hear him.

Max’s voice reached him now and forced him to focus – not on the bloodied mess of an arm, but on Max. The boy was staring intently at David, searching. When David finally looked back, Max relaxed, relief in his expression.

David understood a cue when he got one.

“ _Tall growing pines trees and guitar strumming_  
_Melted marshmallows_  
_And early morn running_  
_Camp Campbell with all the fun that it brings_  
_These are a few of my favorite things,”_ he sang again.

He played an instrumental pause, he and Max both looking at Gwen to continue. She sighed good-naturedly and eased back into her seat.

“ _Angsty vampires_  
_And reality trash TV_  
_Heart throb werewolves and anime constantly_  
_Magazines with the pictures it brings_  
_These are a few of my favorite things.”_

Max huffed out a small laugh. What might have been a smile twisted into a grimace when Charlie rubbed an antiseptic wipe along Max’s hand and arm to clean away the blood and sanitize the small wounds. She them began to apply a generous amount of antibiotic cream along the span of Max’s forearm.

“Your turn,” Gwen goaded Max as she released his shoulder long enough to prod it with her finger.

David kept up the melody and nodded to Max with encouragement.

The boy heaved a mighty sigh as if the universe had done him some great injustice by forcing him to experience a porcupine attack _and_ spontaneously come up with lyrics to a verse of a song that was far too peppy for his tastes.

Yet, either for the sake of distraction or in compliance with David and Gwen’s request, Max started to sing:

“ _Boobs on computers_  
_And colorful swearing_  
_Inciting rebellions and camp activity impairing_  
_Escaping this hellhole and removing its strings_  
_These are a few of my favorite things.”_

“Oh my,” Charlie blinked, pausing momentarily in her motions of wrapping a bandage around Max’s arm to stare at the boy in mild alarm.

The three ignored her, singing the final chorus together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yes. This chapter took far too long to be posted and I thank you all for your patience. This story took a few turns and hit some dead-ends. I didn't want to post anything half-assed, and I especially didn't want to post anything I wasn't happy with because then you wouldn't be happy either. So I kept tweaking it (and it kept getting longer...)
> 
> I was originally going to end the chapter with Max laughing at David's first adaptation of "My Favorite Things", before Charlie's arrival, but I wasn't satisfied with that. I built up this story around the porcupine quills and it felt like a cop-out to end the story with no resolution to that. So I took a little longer to continue the story and effectively resolve the porcupine problem. I hope you too are satisfied with the end result.
> 
> Thank you again to BearBear8 for the prompt idea to make this fic a complete 5+1 things story. And thank you all for reading and for my wonderful comments. It is so inspiration and motivational to hear you are enjoying the story and want more.
> 
> Songs used in this chapter in order of appeareance:  
> "My Favorite Things" by Julie Andrews  
> "Don't Worry About a Thing" by Bob Marley  
> "Tomorrow" from _Annie_  
>  "Move Along" by The All-American Rejects  
> "Keep Your Head Up" by Andy Grammer  
> "My Favorite Things (Camp Camp Edition)" by yours truly. (Oddly enough, Gwen's verse was the hardest to organize.)


	5. To Include

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't want to make you wait as long as you had to for the last chapter, so here's Chapter 5, the last of Max asking David to play. Something a bit fluffier (and considerably shorter). And I really wanted, nay needed, a chapter with the rest of the campers.

David and Gwen had managed to coral all of the campers around the campfire, which, needless to say, was no small feat.

Gwen collapsed onto one of the logs that served as a makeshift chair around the fire. Harrison and Dolph scooted down the log to make room for her and Space Kid, who hopped up to sit beside Gwen. David took the log on the other side of the fire, parallel to Gwen. Neil didn’t mind when the counselor claimed the spot between him and Ered. Max was slumped sourly on Neil’s other side, at the edge of the log. Nerris sat next to Preston on the log perpendicular and Nurf had commandeered the last open log for only himself. Nikki had chosen to sit on the dirt ground near Max instead, feet splayed out in front of her.

It was hot dog night for dinner and each camper had been given a stick to cook their food. David and Gwen watched warily as the children all leaned eagerly towards the crackling fire with the hot, pointed objects clutched tightly in their hands. Nurf occasionally took to smacking the others away if they hovered too close to where he had found the perfect place to warm his hot dog. David visibly flinched every time.

For the most part, the activity went fairly smooth, the kids more focused on cooking their dinner than on trying to stab their neighbor. That, and s’mores _had_ been promised providing the campers all behaved.

The campers talked adamantly amongst themselves: the topics ranging from the activities that they had to suffer through during the day, to whatever antics they liked to get up to at home. Each camper fought to have their story told by raising their voice above the babble. Eventually, everyone had shared some insight into what they usually did at home. Including Gwen – not that anyone didn’t already know. All the woman did was read smut and watch crap tv.

“What about you, Max?” Neil asked, grimacing as the skin of Nikki's hot dog bubbled and charred to a near inedible black.

Max shrugged, hands in his pockets. He wasn’t hungry and had only used his stick to try and whack hot dogs down into the “pits of hell,” as he had put it. Gwen had been quick to yank the stick away.

“Whatever I want,” was his easy answer and no one seemed particularly curious enough to ask for more detail. Judging by the boy’s actions during camp, maybe no one _wanted_ to know more details.

“How about you, David?” Nikki asked around a mouthful of hot dog. Max reflexively flinched away when chunks of meat flew out of her mouth.

“Why, I’m glad you asked, Nikki,” David beamed, eyes sparkling. “Because, actually I like to-”

“I bet he just roams around this place, annoying other campers until summer starts back up,” Max interjected with his coy smirk.

“Ooh! Like Sasquatch!” Nikki enthused excitedly. “Do you grow a beard, David?”

“What? No, I-”

“I think he lives here,” Space Kid supplied in his nasally voice. “Oh, that would be so cool! To live where you work. I hope I get to live on the moon.”

“Maybe he hibernates until the next summer, like a dragon sleeping in its mountain,” Nerris guessed, waggling her fingers dramatically.

“He probably just gets a low-wage, part-time temp job like every other Millennial,” Neil said with a disturbing amount of apathy. “Isn’t that right, Gwen?”

Gwen had frozen with a horrified look in her eyes, like she was having some terrible flashback, or at the very least, another bout of crippling anxiety. Harrison waved his hand in front of her face, as if trying to snap her out of some hypnotic trance.

“Perhaps, this job is just an act,” Preston half-shouted. “He is merely the actor in a play, and his true life is devoted to the theatrical arts.”

“Maybe he works at a ranger station,” Ered stoically added. “My dads say some people go crazy in the woods. It’s pretty cool.”

“Nein, he vorks at a zoo unt feeds the bears,” Dolph chimed in sweetly, sticking his arm straight out to reenact how David might feed the bears. Neil shrank back with a whimper.

“Nah, he probably just goes to another camp,” Nurf provided “Once you get caught in a type cast, you can’t break out of it and it becomes the only thing you can do, the only thing you’re allowed to do.” Expression pensive but eyes dour, Nurf shoved another hot dog into his mouth.

“Well, kids, though I do admire your… creativity, you’re all wrong,” David replied with a smile. “My favorite pastime... is to play the guitar!” He brought said instrument out from behind his back.

The campers either groaned or argued that their idea had been better.

“Hey, David,” Max remarked snidely.

“Yes, Max?”

“Why don’t you play something right now?”

A sudden hush settled abruptly around the campfire as every camper turned to look at Max with utter shock. Even Gwen seemed to shake out of her stupor to stare incredulously at the boy.

“You feeling okay, Max?” Nikki asked suspiciously.

“What gives?” Neil agreed. “You hate it when he plays.”

“Not if it’s a song I choose,” Max retorted, jabbing a thumb at his own chest.

He stood up and walked around to David’s back. Then he deftly reached up to grab a handful of David’s bandana and jerked the man backwards. David fell back with a choked yelp, dropping his hot dog but managing to catch himself on a propped up elbow.

“Max, you can’t just-”

“Play this, Davey,” Max interrupted. His voice was mocking but his eyes were keen when they locked with David’s.

Max ducked his head to whisper fervently into David’s ear. David scrunched his brow in confusion at first until Max’s plan began to make sense.

“Play along and don’t repeat to anyone what I just said, or I’ll kill you,” Max ended in a fierce whisper. He released David and stalked back to his seat.

David watched him go fondly but was quick to school his expression into one of disappointment. “Max, I couldn’t possibly play such a crude song in front of these impressionable children,” he said with theatrical dissent as he struggled back into his seat. “Shame on you.”

He gave the boy a wink over Neil’s head. Max scowled back at him but there was no heat in it.

“Now then, does anyone else have a request for a song they’d like to hear?” David continued, keeping to the script of Max’s brilliant plan. “Something more appropriate?”

“Ooh! Play _The Riders of Rohan_!” Nerris exclaimed, jumping atop her seat, cape whipping wildly behind her. She unsheathed her sword from her belt and swung it valiantly through the air.

Harrison snorted. “That’s not a song. There aren’t any words.”

“There are no words for a musical masterpiece that could possibly depict the unity of the Kingdoms of Man against the Orc hordes,” Nerris snapped, her braces slurring some of the words. She folded her arms crossly at Harrison and stuck out her tongue.

“Ah, speaking of musical masterpieces, I know a few,” Preston enthused with animated eagerness. “I know all the words. I can sing them for you.”

“Pass,” Max deadpanned, holding one hand in the air to stop Preston. “Next.”

“Well, on the radio, all they ever play is ‘Uptown Funk,’” Neil added meekly. “It’s practically my school’s theme song.”

“That song’s cool,” Ered said simply.

“If Ered likes it, it’s gotta be good,” Nikki gushed, bouncing where she sat.

“Ja, I know dat one,” Dolph concurred.

“I guess,” Preston exhaled loudly.

“Not sure if I know that one,” David said apologetically, flashing a quick grin at Max. Ered only rolled her eyes disapprovingly. “But, if you sing it for me so I can get an idea what it sounds like, I might be able to copy it.”

It was the exact same words David had once said to Max to get the boy to open up and sing along with David’s guitar.

“You can do dat?” Dolph asked with wide eyes.

“Yeah. I can match the sounds easily enough,” David nodded confidently.

The déjà vu was staggering. It was the same conversation shared between Max and David back before Max had learned how to play, back before Max was gifted a ukulele, way back before Max realized he liked listening to David play.

David looked his way and their eyes met to exchange a significant glance. David could feel the sense of repetition as well then. Good. It had worked back then with Max, hopefully it would work again now with the campers.

“Fine,” Ered sighed. She stood up and flicked her hair. “I need a beat.” She coolly walked up to Space Kid and, without warning the boy, starting smacking the tempo against Space Kid’s helmet with her stick. The boy just grinned innocently, happy to help.

“Hit it, Harrison,” Ered commanded idly, still making the beat.

The magician jolted and then quickly started clapping along. Nerris started stomping her feet until the others joined in, giving Ered her background music. Max looked to David, but the man already had his head tilted to listen, eyes half-closed, and fingers testing the strings along the neck of his guitar. Max fought down the urge to smile.

With a sufficient amount of music around her, and the intro complete, Ered started to sing:

_“This hit, that ice cold_  
_Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold_  
_This one, for them hood girls_  
_Them good girls, straight masterpieces_  
_Stylin', wilin'_  
_Livin’ it up in the city_  
_Got Chucks on with Saint Laurent_  
_Gotta kiss myself I’m so pretty.”_

Before she could move on to the pre-chorus, David jumped in with a repeat of the verse on his guitar. The campers all whipped around to face David with surprised gasps and murmurs. He picked up the beat that the stunned hands and feet had dropped, and he plucked and strummed the upbeat melody with precision.

He looked up at the bewildered faces (and Max’s unsurprised one) and smiled sheepishly. “Think I remember it now. Shall we start from the top?”

Ered gave an easy smile. “Right on.”

With a loud strum, David started the song over, the kids picking up on the “Doh’s” one by one until, in unison, all the voices belted out the first verse. A few kept up with David by clapping along or stomping their feet. Even Max clapped in synch for a bit. Gwen had covered her ears but was smiling. She even joined in for the “Woo!” when the song dictated that the girls hit their hallelujah.

David was jubilant, laughing and grinning like an idiot.

After that, the song requests came fast and were endless. Most David knew but a few the kids had to sing for him. He’d pick out the melody and repeat it back to them to their astonished delight. Max almost felt like sneaking off to return with his ukulele. Almost. Thankfully, David didn’t pause to ask him to.

The campers sang late into the night, the fire kept burning thanks to Gwen and Max.

On their second trip into the woods in search of firewood, Gwen ruffled the boy’s hair. “That was a good idea.” She knew perfectly well about Max’s ukulele lessons. Hell, she had been there when David had given the ukulele to Max in the first place.

Max smacked her away. “When will you people realize I’m full of good ideas?”

“Do you really want me to list off all the disasters caused by your ‘good ideas’?”

“That’s all relative. Of course you’d think they’re bad ideas. You’re a boring adult.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not so bad when you’re a boring kid.”

“Take that back.”

Gwen chuckled and hefted her load of sticks higher in her arms. Max moved in step beside her as they made their way back towards the campfire and loud, singing voices. The guitar strummed along with whatever the newest song was and David’s voice could be heard clearly over the others: the only one who could hit those damn high notes.

A smile worked its way onto Max’s face without him noticing as he listened.

“Thanks, Max,” Gwen said suddenly, sincerely.

The boy looked up at her. She was smiling straight ahead through the trees, where the firelight trickled through and the silhouettes of dancing campers flickered.

“I know David appreciates it too.”

Max looked away again, following Gwen’s line of sight to a tuft of red hair bobbing along with the music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's song: "Uptown Funk" because that song can somehow make me want to dance and sing along, even when I'm tired of it.
> 
> Thank you, thank you for reading and for your comments that make my days infinitely better every time I read them. 
> 
> Next chapter, the last chapter: Max plays for David.


	6. For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max plays for David.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally.

It was a good thing it happened on a Saturday. That was a small blessing at least.

The worst of it came with the morning, but if Max had to pinpoint the cause and where it started, he’d have to blame it on the dinner from the night before.

Alongside his signature mashed potatoes, the Quartermaster had scooped a gray-brown glob of viscous _something_ with every camper and counselor’s dinner.

“Gravy,” the wizened old man had wheezed from behind his mustache.

When Nikki poked at it with her fork, it jiggled more like jello than like gravy. Neil was pretty sure the gravy had eaten his fork and had hastily pushed the tray away. Space Kid declared the stuff was adhesive enough to help his repairs on his Challenger II model and eagerly stashed a handful into his pocket. Most of the other campers eyed it warily and didn’t dare touch it. Max, who didn’t bother to eat much of camp cooking anyway, ignored it completely. Gwen had even started to lift up her finger to question exactly _what_ the Quartermaster had used to make the gravy. She stopped when she had decided that knowing the ingredients would be worse than not knowing and simply avoided the gravy like everyone else.

David, however – naïve, trusting David who had been subject to the Quartermaster’s cooking since way back when he was a Camp Campbell camper – ate everything without question or complaint. He complimented the Quartermaster on a wonderful addition to an already perfected recipe of potatoes.

They all should have been more suspicious when David had been early to bed.

Cue Saturday morning and no bubbly camp counselor calling out jovial good mornings and ushering the kids out of their tents. The sun might as well not have risen at all that day as the camp’s own embodiment of sunshine was absent.

Kids trickled out of their tents, woken not by a sprightly voice but by the increasing light and rising temperature. They looked around groggily, wondering why today felt not only different from any other day, but downright wrong.

They really should have been more apprehensive about the apparent lack of cheeriness.

More than once, Max found himself reflexively looking around for that familiar poof of red and that chipper smile.

The campers cautiously grouped together, finding strength in numbers to try and fend off the unnatural, overwhelming feeling of _wrongness_. Together they moved to the only place they could think of that might have an answer: the counselor’s cabin.

As if she had sensed their approach, Gwen opened the door onto a pack of anxious kids, all silently curious as to why they felt anxious at all.

“David’s got food poisoning,” Gwen stated impassively.

Her eyes were tight with her own worry; mouth a grim line of solemnity.

“No activities today. Since it’s Saturday, you guys are free to do whatever you want anyways. Keep quite around the cabin and don’t get yourselves killed.”

Her announcement made; her orders relayed, Gwen closed the door and retreated back inside. The campers fidgeted uneasily where they stood. Food poisoning? It had to have been from last night’s dinner. A few hands went to grab at suddenly queasy stomachs.

The Quartermaster _had_ declared he would betray the camp the moment the right opportunity arose back when David had proclaimed the first (and last) Quartermaster Appreciation Day. He had also said David would be first. Maybe this was just the first step in some large scheme to poison every last camper. Damn it, like Daniel hadn’t been bad enough.

A few campers drifted reluctantly away once a weak coughing could be heard from the inside. This quickly turned into a lung-rattling fit and then the sound of retching. Max finally lost his nerve and could take no more of eavesdropping once a pitiful whimper flittered into the air.

The rest of the morning was spent avoiding the Quartermaster and the campers wandering off to entertain themselves.

Dolph started a new painting,but his heart wasn’t in it. The colors seemed too drab without David complimenting the precision with which Dolph applied his brushstrokes to the canvas.

Nurf repeatedly stabbed at a tree but clearly wasn’t putting much effort into it. He sighed heavily. It wasn’t the same without David reprimanding him to hand over the knife.

Nerris fortified her castle and rolled dice to strengthen her protection spell against the charm that had evidently affected David. She considered creating a potion that would help the man be more resistant to poison.

Harrison did tricks and tried to distract the other campers but everyone knew his skill was with making things disappear. It was bringing things back that he struggled with, so he wouldn’t be able to make David reappear anytime soon.

Preston practiced a monologue on the stage of his theater but he was lacking his usual passion. Gwen wasn’t there for him to defiantly act against and David wasn’t there to applaud him.

Ered wore her headphones and switched positions from leaning to lounging. It would have been the perfect time to practice some of the more advanced skateboarding tricks David had forbade her from performing after the full-body cast incident. But with no David stubbornly telling her to be careful, there was no point in rebelling.

Space Kid didn’t want to try to go to the moon on a day when David wouldn’t be there to see it.

Neil, Nikki, and Max were sprawled listlessly in a patch of grass, the sunlight streaming down, uncharacteristically cold. There were no indicators beckoning them towards adventure; no laid out plan of chaos. What was the point? There was no Gwen or David to make miserable.

Max had always looked forward to Saturdays: his one day of freedom from the positive epitome of happiness. But today… Today was drab and dreary as if the color had been seeped from the land, making the lack of familiar red all the more evident. The air was heavy with the sensation of bleakness. Everyone felt it. Camp Campbell just wasn’t the same without their annoying, overly-cheerful counselor. It wasn’t the same without David.

The lunch call summoned them to the mess hall in the afternoon and the campers all trudged towards it. Those that happened to pass the counselor’s cabin, crept quietly by, all too aware of the sounds of miserable suffering coming from within. Max wondered what could possibly still be in David’s stomach at this point that would cause the man to keep trying to empty it.

No one had much of an appetite.

Kids were poking at their food when Gwen staggered in. Everyone looked up at once. Fatigue was etched in her expression, highlighting the worry still lining her eyes. She wordlessly went into the kitchen, grabbed a cup of coffee, and came back to sink into a seat at one of the tables. Lunch forgotten, the campers all migrated towards her, civilly filling up the seats around her.

Gwen dragged a tired hand down her face, took a long drink of coffee, and rubbed at her eyes.

“I think the worst has passed,” she answered the unspoken question. “He finally managed to keep some of the meds down. He’s resting now but will probably be out of commission until tomorrow.”

Gwen looked around, seemingly acknowledging the apprehensive faces before her for the first time. She smiled at them.

“He’s going to be okay, guys,” she assured them. “I’m sure he’d be proud of you all for stepping up today and not getting yourselves killed. I know I am.”

A collective layer of tension seemed to lift from the group and the air suddenly didn’t feel so heavy anymore. Grim expressions brightened and campers went back to nibble at their lunch (just not anything that looked like it could be meat).

Gwen watched them with a strange sense of fondness, when she noticed an absence of black curly hair and a blue hoodie. The skip of a heartbeat was reflexive at this point whenever Max suddenly disappeared. She really did not need this right now.

“Where’s Max?” she said aloud, tone edged with suspicion.

Nikki and Neil glanced back and her and then at each other. They hadn’t noticed Max leave either.

Gwen groaned and downed the rest of her coffee. She _really_ did not want to deal with this right now. Not after spending the majority of the day taking care of a sick David.

Fine, whatever, he’d show up when he wanted to. So long as he didn’t get himself killed or in some other situation that would place the camp in some legal trouble, he was fine wherever he had wandered off to.

“Keep him out of trouble, will you?” she requested of the boy’s friends. Neil replied with a shrug of his shoulders that seemed to portray his question as to how they were supposed to do that when Max was notorious for dragging them _into_ trouble. Nikki gave a salute.

Gwen sighed and stood. She refilled her coffee cup before returning to the cabin. She didn’t like David being alone for too long, even if he was passed out from a morning full of puking. He still had a fever and she wanted to make sure the medicine was doing its job.

When she opened the door to the cabin she was surprised to see Max frozen where he stood, hand stopped in its reach for the knob on David’s door. His eyes were wide: a deer caught in the headlights. Clutched tight in his hand was his ukulele.

Gwen closed the door quietly behind her and walked up to the boy. Max’s struggled to school his face into his usual bored, perpetually annoyed expression, but the fear of being caught made his aqua eyes unable to meet Gwen’s gaze.

She knelt down in front of the boy, like how she saw David do constantly. Voice low so as to not disturb the man on the other side of the door, she asked, “Max, what are you doing here?” Her tone wasn’t angry or surprised. There was no threat of punishment. She just sounded tired.

Max kept his gaze downcast and moved to grip his ukulele to his chest. Gwen softened.

“Just wanted to check on the asshole, make sure he’s not faking or some shit,” Max grumbled with a half-shrug. “Just because I get a break from his annoying optimism, doesn’t mean he gets to get a break from me. I have a quote of misery to fill.”

“All right, you little shit,” Gwen smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. He lifted his eyes to glare at her.

“I was looking forward to a break anyway. You’re in charge.” She stood and headed back to the door. She called back over her shoulder, “If he wakes up, make sure he drinks something. Guy needs as much liquids as he can keep down.” Then she left with one last trusting look.

Max let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Relaxing his grip on his ukulele and allowing his shoulders to ease back down, Max turned back to the door and let himself into David’s room.

He blinked first at the dimness. The blinds were closed, prickles of the bright afternoon sun peeking through the cracks. The open window behind the blinds allowed in a breeze that made them rock back and forth, clacking gently against the windowsill. A desk fan facing the bed buzzed into background noise. Despite the fresh breeze and fan, the room felt oddly stuffy and stale. It was too dark, too quiet – not at all like how David usually kept it.

An empty bucket with a fresh bag waited near the head of David’s bed. A water bottle was perched close at hand on his nightstand. Another full water bottle and half a sports drink were close by, more empty bottles tossed in the trashcan by the desk.

Max swallowed heavily. The wrongness that had permeated the day seemed to come to a point here, like this was ground zero of the outbreak of gloom.

A form shifted on the bed and Max shuffled closer.

David was a miserable ball curled up under his blanket. He groaned and writhed with a shiver. When he flipped over, Max could make out his scrunched up face in the minimal light. The man was alarmingly pale, hair limp and plastered to a damp forehead. Max grimaced. David looked terrible.

As quiet as possible, Max climbed up onto the foot of the bed. He rested his ukulele in his lap and just sat. The blinds clacked, the fan buzzed, and David tossed restlessly in an uneasy sleep.

Max hesitated. Fuck, what was he doing? What exactly was his plan here? Play a song for a sleeping, sick man. David needed his sleep. Didn’t really look like he was sleeping all that well but getting awoken by a brat with a ukulele probably wasn’t ideal either.

Jesus, Max didn’t know what to do. His plan was unraveling the longer he sat there. He couldn’t decide on whether he should push back the hair clinging to David’s forehead, look away from the sheer vulnerability of pain on David’s face, play his ukulele, or just fucking leave. What he did know is that he didn’t want to just sit here and watch David suffer – as much as that usually amused him. This just made his stomach hurt and his heart heavy.

Max took a deep breath and made a decision. He positioned his ukulele in his hands. Listening to David play always cheered him up. Hell, the idiot went out of his way to play for Max when the boy demanded it. Maybe, for once, Max could return the favor.

Without preamble, he started to play. Nothing complex. Nothing like what David could do with his guitar. But something slow and soothing. He played carefully, gently, making sure to get every note correct. It was one of the songs in the music book David had bought him, one he liked and had practiced to the point where it came naturally to him.

It calmed him, and David seemed to settle more easily too.

Max played through it twice, having found which notes to manipulate to transition smoothly into the repetition.

When he finished – a high note that ended with a reassuring echo, he checked on the lump in the bed. Green eyes were looking back at him.

“Hey, Max,” David said, voice coarse from sleeping and from a morning of emptying the contents of his stomach.

Shadows yawned under eyes struggling to stay open. His arms were wrapped tightly around his stomach. His skin was pale except where the fever reddened his cheeks. But still he smiled his signature smile at Max.

“You play wonderfully, you know that?” The words were somewhat slurred with fatigue but the smile was strong. “You’ll be better than me one day. I know it.”

Max wasn’t sure what to say. All he could think was that the overwhelming wrongness that had hung over the camp all morning had dissipated upon seeing that familiar smile and hearing that familiar voice, albeit weak, still gushing with positivity. He managed a smile and David’s face brightened. He almost looked healthy again. Almost.

Max startled with sudden remembrance and clambered off the bed, leaving his ukulele on his seat, and quickly handing the water bottle over to David.

David chuckled with a mumbled thank you and took a few small sips. He handed the bottle back to the boy. Max hesitated. Gwen had told him to give David as much as he could but the bottle didn’t feel any lighter.

“More,” Max insisted, pushing the bottle back.

“You’re as bad as Gwen,” David huffed but drank a little more.

Satisfied, Max accepted the bottle back and placed it on the nightstand. “So, done puking your guts out?”

David grimaced at the memory and Max immediately regretted asking.

“I’m better,” David answered, pushing his sweat-laden hair off his forehead. It stuck up at an odd angle for a moment and then slowly started to deflate to the side. “The medicine is helping.”

David peeked at Max with one eye. He glanced over at the ukulele and a coy smile spread across his face.

“Don’t fret.”

Max stared at him. “Was that-?” The gaze turned hostile. “Was that a fucking guitar pun?”

David chuckled weakly, trying not to cough, and holding his stomach. There was pain etched in the lines around his eyes and there was a strained tightness around his mouth, but still he laughed. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

Max felt some tension leave his shoulders. It made it easier to forgive the bad pun.

David quieted and let out a heavy sigh and settled more comfortably in his bed. Relaxed smile back on Max, he asked, “Can you play another song?”

Pride an unfamiliar (but not unwelcome) bubble in Max’s chest, the boy eagerly reclaimed his seat and started another song. He effortlessly played through two more songs that had been included in his song books, and then continued more slowly through one of the songs he practiced with David.

David listened with his eyes closed. Sometimes his face scrunched up in discomfort when a wave of pain passed over him but his expression eased as Max kept playing. For all Max knew, David faded in and out of consciousness, but he always opened his eyes to congratulate Max on every successful completion of a song. Max ducked his head with pride and embarrassment, already thinking of what song he could play next for David.

At one point, Max scooted closer to lean his back against David’s legs; his own legs laid out straight in front of him. Then he kept up a continuous, easy beat and started to talk over the melody. It was more of a ramble, really. He told David about what all the campers had done all day. He told him that Dolph had started a new painting. Nurf hadn’t stabbed or threatened anyone. Nerris had offered the other campers magically charmed rocks that would repel poison. Harrison had made all the leftover gravy disappear (David was rather impressed and thankful to hear that). Preston was working on a new play, something other than Shakespeare for once. Ered hadn’t broken any bones. Space Kid was almost ready for another orbital attempt but would wait for David before taking off. Neil hadn't created another sentient life-form and Nikki hadn't summoned any wolves to stalk the camp.

It was probably the most he’d ever talked to the man without an insult. There was still plenty of swearing. He was still Max.

David listened with the same intent interest, chuckling at some stories and humming attentively at others. Max couldn’t quite meet the gratitude glittering in those green eyes. It was something foreign to him: gratitude. David was enjoying his music, his stories, his company. Granted the man was sick so the fever probably made everything groggy anyway, and it wasn’t like he had the strength to just get up and walk away. But David was listening to Max like the boy was sharing the secret of life, the universe, and everything. Actually, truly listening, not just hearing like what most adults did. What Max’s parents did. He could tell. What he said mattered. It mattered to David.

When Max ran out of things to say, he played another song. He played every song he could remember and then snippets of the ones he was still learning. He played until his fingers hurt and David’s eyes stayed closed, breaths even with sleep.

When Gwen came in to get Max for a gravy-free dinner, it was to see David fitfully asleep and Max tucked in a ball and asleep on the bed in front of him, the boy’s head pillowed on David’s arm.

She left them there, a new picture saved on her phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter at last. It is complete.  
> Thank you so much for being patient with me to finally finish this fic. I apologize for it's lateness and hope its contents is enough to appease you. 
> 
> Thank you for sharing this story with me and for all my wonderful (and heart-warming) comments. I cannot adequately express the joy I get from reading about the joy you got.


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